In the 2 years before I turned 40, I got divorced, started a new job and moved my 2 young rambunctious boys to a house in a new town. How was I even still standing?
The day of diagnosis was like any other – I was spread thin, running from one thing to another. I went from a funeral to the office to my son’s baseball game and then hopped on a flight to LA for work the next morning Somewhere in-between I was told I had cancer. I didn’t have time for cancer. It wasn’t until late that night, alone in a hotel room, that it all began to sink in. Digging for Tylenol in my purse I came across my son’s eye black. I applied the black under my eyes, scribbled FUBC (Fuck You Breast Cancer) across my chest and began my fight MY WAY. I would be fearless, funny, strong and positive. I took to social media.
The outpouring of support was incredible. I walked into that surgery feeling fearless. And even after a double mastectomy, I still felt like a woman. I wore a lace robe! I still don’t know what kind of cancer I had that resulted in a stage 3 diagnosis. It doesn’t matter because I’m never looking back, just moving forward.
I plowed forward through treatment with positivity surrounded by friends and family. I’d shop for wigs, chat about my handsome plastic surgeon and rename my meds “chemo cocktails.” I danced at weddings, hit the slots in Atlantic City and most importantly, spent time with my children.
My positivity was infectious. It gave me the strength to go on. I continued to focus on fitness. Inspired by family and powered by positivity I’ve decided to run the NYC Marathon. I am putting one foot in front of the other, moving forward and away from whatever holds me/us back. Death, disease, lost love, a bad day at work. I am not a runner but I run this body.